Like a Soldier
by zarabithia
Summary: After the events of "Good Soldiers", Lucas reflects on Bridger's words.


Like a Soldier 

Rating: PG-13 for mild swearing

Summary: After the events of Good Soldiers, Lucas reflects on Bridger's words.

A/N:  Again, I like Captain Bridger in Season 1 and 2. . . much more than Hudson in Season 3. But Season 3 Bridger gave me the creeps.  Someday soon, I'll try for a happy Bridger fic. 

Disclaimer:  I don't own them. Someone does.  I'm not making any money. Someone is or was, but apparently not enough, as it was cancelled. 

~~~~~~~

"I expect you to act like a soldier." 

It's unfathomable that one sentence can cause so much pain.  Hell, by this point, it's almost unbelievable that I'm capable of feeling any pain.  After everything that's happened in my life so far, you'd think I'd be immune to it.  

I keep hoping that one day I finally will be.  That eventually I'll be so broken inside that I just _can't _break anymore.  

Is that scientifically possible?  Can you break something into so many pieces that it can't possibly be further divided? 

I should know-I am the chief scientist on this boat. Apparently, I 'm also the _only _scientist on this damn boat.  The way Hudson expects me to be able to fix anything remotely scientific-whether it pertains to biology, chemistry, physics, or computers.  I want to help in this world. But sometimes, I just want to scream, "I'm a _computer _expert, damnit! If you wanted a biologist, chemist, or physicist, maybe you should have thought of that before you got rid of all the civilians on board-namely the other _scientists._" 

Someday, Macronesia is going to use a chemical or biological weapon at us and I'm just going to snap and say it.  To hell with the consequences. 

Bet Captain Hudson wouldn't like that very much.  That's not the way a proper soldier behaves.   And as my dear Captain Bridger pointed out, "I expect you to act like a soldier." 

Ouch.  Guess I'm not completely broken yet.  

From my _expertise _as a scientist, I guess you can't really reach an unbreakable point.  Take a bone, for example.  Even if you smash it beyond all recognition, you can still do damage on the molecular level. 

Then I guess I'm doomed.  Doomed to keep feeling the pain.  Although, I have to be pretty close to the molecular level now.  

The first blow would have been my mother leaving us, of course.  Followed by my father becoming all consumed in his work, and eventually dumping me on this hunk of metal.  All in rapid succession.  Every missed birthday, every missed Christmas, every missed bit of affection that a normal parent would give to their child-all blows to Lucas.  

I suppose Dad would be horrified at that thought.  He's never raised a hand to me. In fact, his parting words when he dumped me on SeaQuest were, "Maybe if I had spanked you once in a while like your mother wanted, we wouldn't have had this problem." 

If getting spanked once in a while would have precluded getting sent to SeaQuest and the ensuing damage, then by all means, I would have preferred getting beaten black and blue from time to time.   That's a pretty powerful statement, I guess.  I'm not sure I really mean it.  SeaQuest has been my home since I was fourteen.  It was the place where a lot of very _good _things happened.  Among them, a substantial amount of healing from the aforementioned blows. 

Where I felt loved, wanted, and needed.  

Maybe I'm not quite down to the molecular level, after all.  The bruised and battered mass that makes up my inside did undergo a huge amount of healing in those early years on SeaQuest.  

But they've had a hell of a lot of battering again: 

Hyperion.  

Miguel.

Wendy.

_Ten Years. _

"There is no listing for a Lawrence Wolenczak. . . Dr. Lawrence Wolenczak has been deceased for five years." 

"It's time, Lucas."

"There's so much more now." 

Ensign Wolenczak. 

"We're on different sides now, Lucas." 

Brody. 

No. . . God, no, I can't relive them.  But here in the dark of my quarters when it's just me, I can't help myself.  And today, Bridger just added one more to the growing list.  

"I expect you to act like a solider."

One of the hardest blows ever delivered.  And it came from someone I used to idolize. In that moment, part of me  wanted desperately to scream my frustrations while an equally loud portion begged to be allowed to laugh in his face.  

I wanted to tell him that I'd never wanted this.  I'd never wanted to be _Ensign _Wolenczak.  Maybe I'd joked about it in the past-about becoming a Captain, having my own ship. But I'd never meant it.  If I had, I'd have joined the navy when I turned 18, while still under Captain Bridger.  If I had wanted to be in the navy so damn much, I would have done it then. 

But I didn't.  Because for all that Hudson is confused, he's got one thing right-I _AM _a scientist.  

There's an ironic thought.  Hudson knows me better than the man I loved like a father.  A year ago-or, 10, I guess-I never would have been able to believe it. 

If Bridger knew me half as well as I thought he had, he would have known that I hated joining the navy.  When I enlisted, I signed on as a military personnel- every time I walk on the bridge, I violate my personal ethics.  Doesn't he realize that he never gave me any other choice? He handed his ship over to someone he _knew _wouldn't allow civilians to stay aboard, left without so much as a second glance, and what choice did that leave me?

None, if I wanted to keep my home.  And SeaQuest was-_IS –_my home. 

_That's _why I became a solider.  _That's _why I sold out to the military when I am a scientist. Surely Bridger can see that.   Maybe he can.  Makes "I expect you to act like a soldier" all the more diabolical, doesn't it?  Twist the knife, Captain.  Et tu? 

Nah, I don't think he gives me that much thought anymore. 

Besides, he couldn't understand the concept, even if I explained it to him-as though he'd want to listen.  Whenever personal problems conflict with professional obligations, Bridger bails.   Things get tough, and he walks away.  

But yet he has the audacity to say to me, "I expect you to act like a solider." 

_That's _why I wanted to laugh in his face.  What exactly does he know about being a solider? So he's a hotshot in the Navy.  Or used to be, at any rate.  What good does that do when all he can do is run when he hits a problem.  Hudson-God, for all that I hate him-Hudson would never run.  Hudson's a soldier.  He can lecture me all he wants about proper behavior for a soldier.  Bridger can do so whenever the hell he decides that running from his problems isn't an option.  After all, _we _couldn't run.  We were stuck here.

Stuck. Absolutely.  Because if Bridger had given me any indication that I was wanted on his little trip to find his long lost son, I would have gone too.  _I _would have _ran _too.  Maybe I'm not such good soldier material after all. But I'm working on it.  

The first step, of course, is learning how shield the blows.  Become less "breakable."  The only way to do that is to quit letting people in.   Almost everyone I was closest to on this boat either left me or died.  And I can't. . . when Bridger walked away, I was instantly transported back to being five years old, playing in the park by myself, trying to pretend that it didn't matter anymore that I was all alone, when all the other children had their parents.  

I won't be that vulnerable again. It _hurts _too much.  

Besides, that's not the way a soldier acts, is it? 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


End file.
